


read my lips

by defractum (nyargles)



Series: Tumblr Fic & Prompt Fills [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Character, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyargles/pseuds/defractum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is Deaf, Enjolras is a volunteer terp for the university and people are arseholes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	read my lips

 

“Urgh, I need to find another seat,” someone says. “He’s making seal noises again. He even  _breathes_ obnoxiously loudly.”

At the front of the lecture hall, Enjolras’s hands falter.

“I would rather sound like a seal than an asshole,” says Grantaire, enunciating as clearly as he knows how. Grantaire raises an eyebrow and Enjolras picks up where he left off, signing about Corinthian art, but not without frowning at Grantaire first.

_You okay?_ asks Enjolras when the lecture is finished, and they’re headed down the hall.

“What?” asks Grantaire aloud, because what’s the point of spending thousands of euros on speech therapy and twisting his tongue into stupid shapes if he’s not going to practice it?

_Asshole earlier._ Enjolras’s hands twitch, before finger spelling out asshole. Grantaire supposes it doesn’t come up in advanced ASL lessons particularly often. He signs it back at Enjolras, who grins.

Grantaire shrugs. “Didn’t hear anything,” he says. “I’m Deaf.” Enjolras doesn’t have to sign anything to let Grantaire know what he thinks of that. The scowl on his face makes it _quite_ clear. Enjolras knows full well that Grantaire had his aids in and had them turned on. “I’m joking,” he says.

_Not funny_ , signs Enjolras.

Grantaire reaches over and flicks his ear.  _I’m hilarious_ , he signs firmly, dropping the speech thing for now. It’s tiring, anyway. He’s honestly surprised Enjolras is still signing now they’re not in a lecture. He interpreted for Grantaire for the entire hour, and it must be hell on his hands. _You know I lipread?_

_Signing’s easier._

_Liar_. Grantaire smiles, so Enjolras will know he’s joking.

_If you want a rest from hearies, come to my student activist group later?_

Grantaire snorts; Enjolras has been trying to get him to join for almost the whole month since he transferred here.  _You’re_   _a hearie._

It’s a bit silly for Enjolras to assume that Grantaire has no other friends here, but… well, he’s correct. Most of Grantaire’s friends looked at him like he’d suddenly sprouted a second head when he said that he wanted to move to mainstream uni. He visits them sometimes, and it’s both like being coming home, and feeling a bit like he’s being swallowed in the tiny bubble that is the Deaf world again.

Enjolras shrugs awkwardly.  _Feuilly is there?_  He signs it like that’s an enticement. Which, okay, it is. Feuilly and Enjolras are both volunteer ‘terps registered with the uni, and they rotate shifts to interpret for Grantaire’s lectures. Feuilly’s pretty cool. But… Grantaire doesn’t really want anything to do with student activism – all his energy is sucked up these days by how often he has his aids on, trying to acclimatise himself to background noise. Background noise is really fucking noisy. It kind of exhausts him just by existing. He raises his hands, tries to decide how subtle he wants to be.  _Not a student activist_.

_Exactly why you should come. No point preaching to the choir._

Grantaire laughs at that, or makes a seal sound, he’s not quite sure. He should probably go look up what seals sound like on youtube or something now he’s upgraded his aids and is trying to use them again.  _Maybe_ , he concedes.

_We’re really loud_ , signs Enjolras.

That’s a shitty remark if Grantaire ever saw one; his face clouds over.  _So it doesn’t matter if I’m obnoxiously loud too?_ He doesn’t understand hearies’ preoccuption with keeping quiet, with shrinking in on themselves, invisible and unassuming. Deaf culture is loud, and it’s fucking unapologetic about it because it has to be loud, but that doesn’t mean that other people get to make jibes about it.

_NO_. Enjolras’s hands fling out so quickly he nearly bats Grantaire in the face.  _I just mean. You can turn the aids off if the noise bothers you. Other signers?_

A couple of his fingers spasm, as he waits for Grantaire to respond. Grantaire had been right earlier.  _Don’t sign so much if you’re not used to it_ , he signs instead, and tries to take the offer as graciously as it was intended.

Enjolras raises his hands, and instead of letting him sign anything, Grantaire grabs one. Grantaire signs a lot. He  _knows_ what it feels like when he’s been signing for too long, and Enjolras’s hands are seriously starting to cramp up. He digs his thumb into the muscle under Enjolras’s little finger, and feels Enjolras wince.

“You’re an idiot,” says Grantaire, switching to speech. It’s great, because his aids are off between classes, he’s still got one of Enjolras’s hands in his, and he’s determinedly not looking at Enjolras’s face, which means Enjolras has no way of retorting. Grantaire is a genius.

He drags them both to a bench outside the lecture halls, plonking Enjolras down to his left and pulls Enjolras’s right hand into his lap. They’ve got forty minutes before Grantaire has to peel off to his next lecture, where Feuilly will be waiting. That’s enough time for a hand massage.

Grantaire still doesn’t look up, and this time it’s not because he’s being funny, or clever, it’s because he has a serious blush spreading hot and fast across his face as he gently rubs up and down the length of Enjolras’s fingers and across his palm.

Enjolras is still, just letting Grantaire do his thing and Grantaire doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s just letting the awkward Deaf kid do what he wants or because he’s actually enjoying it and God, Grantaire’s just freaked himself out so much he doesn’t want to look up to see anymore.

Grantaire finishes one hand, deeming it okay when Enjolras’s hand is warm in his, pink from all the contact and his finger isn’t spasming slightly from that one frazzled nerve, and hesitates. It would be odd to do one hand but not the other, right? But – what if Enjolras really is just completely freaked out by him right now?

Taking a chance, Grantaire peeks up at Enjolras, flicking his eyes up without moving his head, and locks eye contact with Enjolras through his fringe of curls. Eye contact. That means Enjolras has been watching him, just staring at him, and he doesn’t look like he wants to take his hand back and run away forever, which can only be a good thing.

It takes Grantaire a moment to realise that Enjolras has been saying something, and he hasn’t been paying attention. He only catches the last bit of what he says.

“–other hand?”

Grantiare bites his lip. Lets go. Enjolras slides his other hand into Grantaire’s lap and Grantaire stares down at it. The tiniest of smiles steals its way across his lips, and suddenly the blush is back again. “Sure.”

Enjolras’s left hand is a little further away – Enjolras shuffles them closer until their thighs press against each other, warm in the cool weather, and it’s not until Grantaire starts that he realises that Enjolras – the sneaky fucker – has draped his right arm around Grantaire’s shoulders.

He looks up again, and this time Enjolras is grinning outright, his face suddenly much closer than it was before, and getting closer still. His hand twists in Grantaire’s until their fingers are entwined, and Grantaire doesn’t have to hear anything at all to see the question in Enjolras’s eyes. He doesn’t answer, just leans forward until their lips meet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://defractum.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
